


help me out

by happybeans



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, Gen, I have nothing to tag this as, Law School, Wholesome Fun, again not an au but you get the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happybeans/pseuds/happybeans
Summary: Foggy puts off his essay until the last minute. Matt gives some encouragement then goes on a journey to find coffee in the middle of the night. Set during their law school days.





	help me out

“Foggy Nelson,” Matt says, “you have got this.”

“Yeah…” Foggy breathes. His head nods like a bobble-head, and an eensie beginning to a smile starts on his face. “Yeah, okay, I’ve got this.”

“Yes!” Matt’s a little bit too hyped, but hey, Foggy can use all the encouragement he can get. It’s contagious; Matt’s bouncing slightly, perhaps even unconsciously, and Foggy can’t help but to let his smile grow into a grin watching.

“Okay,” Matt says. He gestures with both hands to the desk, a bit to the right of where Foggy’s notes sit. “Go. Start. Make this thing happen. You’ve got this, pal.”

Foggy lets out a sighing groan, but he turns himself forward on the chair, scooting in towards the desk. He breathes in once, hands flexing into fists, then relaxes all at once. He flips open the top to his laptop and Matt pats a hand onto his shoulder.

Matt’s thumb rubs circles on the back of Foggy’s shoulder as he says, “I’m gonna make a coffee run. You just focus on the essay, I’ll handle the caffeine tonight.”

Foggy nods. “Don’t fail me, Murdock,” he jokes. “That coffee better be so strong I start hallucinating God.”

Matt pulls away, but he still huffs a breathy laugh. “You don’t need coffee to see God, Foggy,” he says. “But, heard.”

Foggy desperately hopes he’s speaking, like...metaphorically.

He pockets his wallet, picking it up from the nightstand beside his bed, and slips on his sunglasses. Then he walks the few paces to the door. He turns the knob, starts to open it, but pauses before he leaves. Foggy looks over.

Matt smiles. “I’ll be back in fifteen or so. Do _not _get distracted.”

Foggy makes an affronted noise, but he’s grinning, and perhaps blushing a little. “I would never!” he denies.

Matt nods along, slowly, and with a faux-agreeing smile on his face. “Right,” he agrees in a tone that implies that he wholly disagrees. “Right, of course not. Good luck.”

And then Foggy’s alone in the dorm. He cracks his knuckles and makes an attempt to crack his neck. It doesn’t happen, but whatever.

“Alright,” he says to himself, “you’ve got this, buddy. One night, one essay—it’s just you and me, boy.”

He stops talking after that, because it was starting to get a little weird.

He throws his name on top of the paper. Then the name of the class. And just to get a little crazy, he changes the font to Times New Roman, 12-point, 1.5-spaced. Whew, what a rush. This thing’s really coming along.

Alright, paragraph one.

Paragraph one.

He looks down at his notes, scrubbing a hand over his face. He last thing he wants to do is this essay.

Well, wait, no. The last thing he wants is to fail this class. He writes the first body paragraph, looking between the screen and his notes. Not too bad.

He manages to really get in the zone, and the next two paragraphs follow quickly. Matt gets back halfway through paragraph three, and he seems genuinely impressed with the rate at which this thing’s coming along. Foggy is, too.

Then, in true Nelson-fashion, he hits a stand-still. He was planning on bullshitting the next part of the paper, but bs’ing is more difficult than it seems.

He sips on his latte—thank you, Matt. Thank you—and leans back in his chair.

He lets out a yawn.

Then he gets back to work.

————————

He’s been doing this for hours. A short break is fine. It’s fine. He gets a half drop out of his coffee cup, a drop he’s been rationing for the last while.

Matt’s head turns away from his book suddenly, and he actually comes pretty close to looking at Foggy.

“I’m not hearing typing sounds,” he points out.

“Um, yeah, that’s because I’m doing it quietly,” Foggy tries, sounding confident.

It must convince Matt because after a moment of deliberating pause, he huffs, lifting to fingers to wave them between his eyes and Foggy, in a ‘I’m watching you’-sort of gesture.

Foggy breaks off into chuckles, because wow, that’s a good one. Then he dutifully pulls his laptop back towards him, cracking his knuckles before diving back in.

And indeterminable amount of time later...

“It’s been twenty minutes, Foggy.”

“Ugh, how would you know?!” Foggy asks, pacing the room and gesturing largely.

Matt raps against his watch and Foggy groans.

“I’m dead,” Foggy says, lifting his hands to his face. “I’m not going to live through this one.”

“Oh, come on, now. You won’t die,” Matt says. Foggy just keeps rubbing his eyes. God, he’s so tired.

He sits on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, and groans.

“Fog,” Matt says, drawing it out in a pitying tone. When Foggy doesn’t even respond, past the point of having any hope to give, Matt pushes up, and Foggy hears him set his book to the side.

Then the cheap dorm mattress screeches and groans pitifully as Matt stands and crosses the room. He nudges Foggy’s leg with his foot.

“Hrmph.”

He nudges again.

“Hrmph.”

This time he goes for a poke, slowly stabbing Foggy in the shoulder.

“Ugh, whaaaaat?” Foggy asks. He peeks through his hands to see Matt, whose eyebrows are all scrunched up.

“You okay there, friend?”

Ugh, is he?

“Yeahhhhhh, I’m fine,” Foggy says, sighing.

Matt sits down next to him, and they just sit there for a moment before Matt places a hand on Foggy’s back.

“It’ll be okay,” Matt says, hand moving in circles on Foggy’s back. “You still have all night to finish up. Plus, I’m here!”

“You can’t help here; that’s plagiarism,” Foggy says automatically. He’d never accept Matt’s help anyways. It just wouldn’t be right. But especially not after that Jeremy-kid got dropped earlier this year for it. No, thank you.

“Well, I didn’t mean doing it for you,” Matt says. “I was talking more along the lines of moral support.”

Foggy let’s out another big yawn. He’s pretty much silent with it, but Matt’s blind guy-ears still pick up on it.

Matt’s hand leaves his back to feel up his braille watch.

Foggy can’t tell what it says, but it’s probably something along the lines of Ass O’Clock.

“Okay,” Matt says. He stands up, turning to face Foggy, and because he’s in front of the light, there’s a halo around him like some kind of avenging guardian angel-type thing. Matt continues, “The plan: you take a nap; you need to get your energy back up. I can wake you up in an hour or two, with coffee, and this thing’ll be finished.”

Oh, fuck no.

“Matt, _you _should be sleeping,” he points out. “I’m not having you stay up because I’m an idiot.” He ignores Matt’s declaration of ‘You are not an idiot’ to say: “Sleep. I’ll deal.”

And he tries to. He walks over to the desk again, plopping down in the chair and reaching up to the laptop.

“Foggy,” Matt says. “We both know I wasn’t going to sleep anyways.”

Foggy makes a noise in the back of his throat, but Matt continues, “It’s been—look, it’s been a rough couple of weeks for me. It’s...nice. Having something else. To focus on.”

There’s a beat, one where anybody more in-tune with their emotions would’ve maybe elaborated further. Said something a little less completely vague.

But, honestly? As sad as it is, this is an _improvement_ for them.

Foggy sighs, deliberating. He knows that Matt’s had a rough time lately. The guy won’t say anything, but Foggy’s pretty sure he has PTSD or something. It wouldn’t be surprising; for all the trauma Foggy knows about, there’s probably more buried beneath the surface.

Ugh, it’s like that snake-dragon thing from mythology. ‘Cut off one head and two more grow back in its place.’ Like that. But with Matt’s trauma.

“I...okay,” Foggy says finally. “One hour, max.”

“Three hours,” Matt counters, back straight and shoulders back. Oh, he’s lawyer-mode.

Foggy can’t help his tired smile. “One and a half hours,” he counter-offers. “It’s the highest I’ll go.”

Matt hums, rubbing the scruff at his chin. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, smiling, too. “An hour-forty-five. Meet me there.”

Foggy hums, eyes pointed up as he pretends to think.

“Okay, deal,” he says. “Shall we shake?”

He waits for Matt to stick his hand out then grasps it. After a quick competition to see whose grip is the strongest—holy shit, holy shit, it’s Matt, stop!—he totters over to his bed.

“An hour-forty-five,” he repeats into his bedding. “No more than that, Matt.”

“I’m setting my watch now,” Matt says, and a quick peek confirms it. Alright, fine.

He falls asleep within seconds.

—————————

“Alright, kid,” Matt says to himself, shaking his shoulders to hype up. “For Foggy. For Foggy.”

He pounds on the door.

—————————

“Wheeeeere did you find coffee at this hour?” Foggy asks, rubbing a hand over his face and blinking as quickly as possible. He’s still on the cusp of falling back asleep.

Matt smirks, though his cheeks color red. “My little secret,” he says with a wink.

—————————

He knows they’re awake in there. He can hear them breathing, hear the displeased groaning. Yes, it’s nearly four. Get over it. Matt needs some damn coffee.

“Damnit,” Jake says finally then rustles around. He’s getting up, good.

Jake stumbles to the door, and Matt takes a step back as he bumbles in the doorway.

There’s a beat of pause. Then: “Murdock?”

Jake’s an old friend, somebody Matt nearly roomed with one year, back in undergrad. It didn’t work out; Jake’s too party-guy and Matt’s too...blind. He’ll call it like he doesn’t see it.

Of course they didn’t stay in touch—Matt rarely stays in touch—but there’s just enough of a connection to make this single moment okay. Just this once.

“Good morning,” Matt says, inclining his head. “Sorry to wake you at this hour. I need a favor.”

“Look, if it’s the weed thing, I’ve been telling everybody—“

“It’s not.” Matt adjusts his glasses with his cane-hand, holding in a laugh. “Actually, I need to borrow your coffee pot for a moment.” He raises the mug in his right hand.

Jake’s quiet for a second. Then he snorts a laugh. “Classic Murdock,” he says, as though they know each other at all. “Yeah. Yeah, come on in.”

Matt enters Jake’s dorm room, shutting the door behind him. The room smells like alcohol, and based on the faint crunch with each step, the carpets have likely never been vacuumed.

But even so, the floors are mostly clear, and a strong air freshener emanates from the opposite end of the room. They give an effort. One effort. But an effort nonetheless.

“Marco,” Jake calls. “Matt Murdock’s here. I’m giving him coffee.”

‘Marco’ grunts and doesn’t otherwise acknowledge them. Fair enough.

————————

Foggy shrugs, sipping at the coffee. It’s warm but not piping hot. Maybe Matt got it from the kitchen of a different dorm? Theirs has been broken for ages.

He sips some more then says, “Matty, you are my savior.”

Matt chuckles then says, “Don’t worry about it,” through his yawn.

Standing up, Foggy sets the mug down on his desk, stretching with his arms over his head. Oh, that is so satisfying.

“Hey, you should try to sleep now,” he says, when Matt goes for yawn part-two.

————————

There’s a silence between Matt and Jake that he’s trying not to let become awkward. Is he succeeding? Well, no, not really.

“So...put off an essay? Studying for a test?” Jake asks quietly.

Matt matches his tone, saying, “No, my roommate, actually.”

Jake hums. “Foggy Nelson, right?”

Jake and Foggy shared a mutual friend or two last year. Every now and then they’d end up at the same study session or get-together.

Nodding, Matt confirms his question. “He put off a Family Law paper.”

“He have Morrison?” Jake asks as the coffee maker bubbles beside him. “I heard her class is crazy.”

“Yeah, Morrison,” Matt says. Honestly, he thought her class was fine. But: “Yeah, Foggy says she’s a little strict.”

“Boring, too, from what I’ve heard.”

Again, not really. But it’s free coffee and four in the morning, so Matt shrugs. “Maybe a little.”

The coffee machine beeps then, squeezing out the last drops of coffee into the pot.

“Alright,” Jake says. He pauses. Then: “Oh, right, sorry.”

Jake reaches over and pulls the mug out of Matt’s hand. Ah.

He can feel Jake’s face heating up. Matt almost wishes they had been roommates just so Jake could learn.

But again, four in the morning, free coffee. It’s fine.

“You want cream or anything in this?”

“A little would be great, thanks.”

He bids his farewell then releases a breath when the door shuts behind. He laughs.

Foggy better drink every last drop of this coffee. Matt endured small-talk for him.

————————

“I’m okay,” Matt says, sliding his shoes off and tossing his keys onto his bedside table.

How his spatial awareness is so amazing, Foggy will never know. It’s honestly impressive.

What’s not impressive: “Matt, when did you even last sleep?”

“I slept yesterday,” Matt says, fiddling with his sunglasses.

What a load of—

“I’m worried about you, buddy,” Foggy says, looking over from his desk.

“Don’t be,” Matt says. He puts his glasses on the table then walks over to the dresser. “Essay,” he commands as he rifles through it, pulling out some sleep pants and a shirt.

Foggy groans in good humor. “Alright, you caught me,” he says, just to see Matt smile. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Any time, pal,” Matt says.

So Foggy gets back to work. It’s awful and terrible. He’s tired. His head hurts. He contemplates death more than once.

But he finishes it.

And when he looks over to tell Matt, he finds him asleep. It’s an ugly sleep, the most satisfying kind, drool pooling on the pillow and limbs spread everywhere, textbook abandoned at his side.

Foggy breathes a laugh. He tip-toes over to pull a blanket on top of him.

“Thanks, Matt,” he whispers.

Matt snores back.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this since last semester. Every time I didn't feel like doing homework, I'd add a little more to this fic. Iconic. I played around with a switchy timeline. If you have a second, please let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


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